The Sun is a Peach Pit
by Sunflowerprinting
Summary: It's been weeks since Lovino found the motivation to leave the house during daylight. Sleeping all day, and occasionally slinking down dark streets for midnight runs to the grocery has become routine. But with the encounter with a stranger in the canned goods aisle, Lovino starts to wonder if the peaches he bought that day weren't the first bite of something sweeter. Spamano AU
1. Part I

How long had it been since he had gone out during the day. He couldn't remember at this point, darkness filling every tired memory he attempted to drag up of the past weeks. At some point the cloudy monotony had blurred it all into one.

Lovino pushed the covers back from his reclined form, too tired to even be startled at the amount of energy it was taking to move. He had been in bed all day.

Forcing himself into a sitting position took too long, but finally he was there, reaching a pale arm out to grab a pair of pants and pull them languidly onto his thinning form.

He hadn't been outside for...3 days now, maybe 4. He really couldn't remember. It didn't matter anyhow. He wouldn't be going out now, if he hadn't realized that his cabinets were empty yesterday.

He had a vague recollection of forcing some sort of dried food down his throat the previous day, but he honestly couldn't recall the last time he had gotten any sort of pleasure from food. Eating to survive...how different from when he was young, and had thrived on food. Coming from an Italian background had its benefit, and if nothing else, he had at least gotten a sense of taste from his upbringing.

Remembering the smell of tomato sauce was making him nauseous. Or maybe it was the thought of leaving the house, he wasn't sure now.

There was a store not too far from the house, open 24 hours a day. It had become the one source of contact Lovino had with the outside world recently.

Not that he was speaking with anyone while he was there. He would move aimlessly through the aisles, imaging that the apocalypse had struck, and the only thing left on earth was him, and this god forsaken supermarket, a soundtrack of innocuous 80's hits playing in the background.

The basket clasped in his left hand would soon grow heavy with frozen food and bottled drinks. It didn't help that he hadn't been exercising recently. He could barely manage to carry the groceries back to his house without panting.

It was 2am when he passed through the doors of the near abandoned place tonight. One clerk at the check out, an opened energy drink stuffed mostly out of sight under the register. There was no one around now, Lovino didn't think it mattered if the poor thing just left it out.

The lights were brighter than Lovino was comfortable with at this point. The only saving grace was that no one was around to see him in this harsh light, how greasy his hair must be, how pale and oily his skin.

Why was he here again? So he didn't starve.

….Why was he here?

The sound of the automatic doors opening at the front of the store carried all the way back to the freezer aisle, and Lovino stopped short, one hand extended towards the handle of a cooler door. He didn't want to see anyone, that was the whole reason he came here at this time.

It was an odd sort of nerve wracking, trying to stifle the sound of his nervous breathing as he snuck through the empty aisles towards the register. He could hear footsteps making their way around the store. They were the loud, purposeful footsteps of someone who wasn't ashamed to be out at 2:15am, and Lovino found himself pushing down a bubble of resentment.

How dare he be so outgoing. The nighttime was meant for people like Lovino, who weren't fit to be seen in daylight.

That moment of distraction was all it took, and suddenly there was the other person, turning the corner around a display of olives.

Shame had Lovino playing dedicated shopper, leaning down to peer determinately at the label of...a can of fruit.

Maybe it was a blessing in disguise. Lovino couldn't remember the last time he had fruit, even the canned kind, where the juices dripped like sugared tears from every bite, and dribbled messily down your chin. He tossed the can into his basket, feeling the jolt as it landed heavily beside a frozen lasagna.

His grandfather would be ashamed.

The sudden heaviness of the can landing in the basket, however, was nothing compared to the heaviness Lobino felt in the presence to his right. A taller figure, dressed in an oversized olive jacket stood not more than 3 feet away, leaning in slightly towards the shelves.

Lovino let his eyes wander upwards from the man's shoes, following the lines of his jean clad legs, the bottom hem of the jacket, the tips of his fingers as they poked from the sleeves. Then there was the crook of the elbow of his right arm, as it bent to take hold of a can of tomatoes. Lovino could see the creases of his knuckles, made sharper in the florescent light.

When his eyes reached the curved chin, and the sight of the tip of the man's tongue poking out in inquisition at the can in his hand, that was when it became too much, and the shorter man was wrenching his eyes to the weathered linoleum.

Was it too late to pretend he hadn't seen anything? Could he make a run for it, and pray to a God he had no faith in that maybe, just maybe the stranger hadn't noticed his weak presence there in the preserved foods aisle.

His feet were already making the turn when the now unfamiliar sound of a person's voice clashed awkwardly with Lovino's internal dialogue.

"You out for a late night food run as well?" The tone was light and jovial, so much so that even Lovino had a hard time interpreting it as an accusation. It wasn't impossible though.

He scowled up at the stranger, taking in for the first time now the bone structure of his face, his brown curly hair, his dark eyebrows...but not quite able to meet his eyes.

"What's it to you?" His voice was hoarse from lack of use, and it only made him feel more defensive. The grocery aisle had become a hunting ground, and he was prey.

"Oh, I was just surprised to see someone other than myself out so late, that's all! I'm glad for the company, to be honest." He was raising his hands passively, the palm not still holding the can opened to face the other.

Lovino vaguely wondered when the last conversation he had was. It was taking too long, and he was starting to think it really had been before his extended "vacation" had started, and probably over the phone. There were some benefits to being the only one in the family out of the country, he supposed. High international calling costs meant he was largely safe from the barrage of concerned questions about his lifestyle.

He should have been safe from that here as well, in this inky well of time past midnight and before dawn, but maybe that was a poor assumption to make.

Maybe he would look into ordering groceries straight to his door. He was pretty sure that was a thing.

The stranger seemed to be waiting for a response, a now somewhat puzzled expression on his face.

"Are you alright?" The genuine concern in his voice was disconcerting, and Lovino's scowl relaxed unintentionally.

"Fine." The answer came out sharp, and a small part of the Italian's subconscious that had been pushed to the dark recesses of his mind flinched.

The stranger's face softened slightly, and he gave a half smile.

"If you say so. Have a nice night!" Lovino could see the can of tomatoes being dropped into a basket identical to the Italian's own, and the momentary feeling of panic that rose, inexplicably, had nothing to do with being out of the house.

"You too!" It was too loud, far too loud for the empty supermarket in the dead of night. He could hear his voice reverberating off the metal shelving units, holding out who knows how many pounds of preserved goods.

But the stranger who had reached the end of the aisle by this point was turning with the biggest, beaming smile on his face, Lovino didn't think even the sun had been this bright. Not that he could remember it too clearly.

"Thank you!"

His feet stayed frozen to the cold linoleum for several moments after the echo of the automatic doors had already faded away. Finally, as the silence began to set into his bones like a comforting fog, he forced himself to move slowly up to the register.

It seemed the clerk had been affected by the stranger too, as they passed Lovino a clearer smile than he ever recalled receiving from them before.

The streets that carried him back to the house were dark and silent as always. The house too, felt colder than when he had left it, though he could never explain why.

Sitting on the bed in his underwear, sitting the sticky juice from the can of fruit he had inadvertently purchased from the store, Lovino remembered the man from the supermarket and wondered if there wasn't an upside to having left the house today.

 _Hello there~_

 _I'm afraid I've started another story *cries* it's a very similar mood to the other, I think. But I hope you enjoyed it, all the same. I don't have a plan for this one either, but I don't see it getting too long. Anyhoo, thanks for reading!_


	2. Part II

In the all encompassing darkness of the room, the heavy blankets felt almost oppressive. Lovino had long since been able to toss them aside without fear of being consumed by monsters. Particularly now that he knew the most terrifying encounters tended to happen inside his own mind.

When had he become this grown up, he wondered. There was a hint of sarcasm nibbling at the edges of that question though, as he dragged himself to the fridge and pulled out a half eaten container of macaroni salad. It smelled decent enough.

The truth was that he was down on food again. He had been pushing to boundaries of when he would have to visit the store again, waiting until the very last moment, when he would be forced to decide between leaving the house now, or leaving it in a month in a body bag, when the stench finally overtook the neighbors.

There was no real reason to be so nervous about it. It wasn't as though people were always there in the wee hours of the morning, lurking around a corner until Lovino finally stepped through those automatic doors to leap out at him and laugh.

It was something deeper than a fear of people that was keeping Lovino from the grocery this time though. It wasn't just _people_ he didn't want to have contact with, it was _person._ The stranger in the olive colored jacket who had smiled at Lovino like he wasn't something to be ashamed of.

It was confusing to have this specific nagging fear in the pit of his stomach, after all this time, not wanting to be seen as the isolated loser he was.

Lovino let out a shriek, ruffling his greasy hair violently and falling back against the mattress in frustration. He already thought too much about things for his own good, but this was getting ridiculous. He couldn't bear to stomach one more half eaten container of deli food, battling time with the spirit only dairy on the very brink of destruction can.

Perhaps it was this spirit that motivated Lovino to take a quick shower, and pull on a clean set of clothing before stepping out into the chilly night air. He felt fresher than he had in days, though his skin felt a bit too dry now the oil was gone.

The may as well have been a brightly lit haunted house for the way it seemed to loom in the distance, its excessively festive glow seeming to mock the Italian in the shadows.

After spending a few too many long moments staring at the entrance from across the street, Lovino felt the first hint of a chill pass through his sweatshirt, and finally had to concede defeat. He slunk through the sliding automatic doors, wishing with all his heart that they didn't announce his presence so ostentatiously. The cashier barely looked up. Honestly, Lovino was surprised their eyes even opened, the way they were leaning on the counter for support like it was their sugar daddy.

The aisles were miraculously, disappointingly empty. With a basket now filled with day old deli food, and frozen feastings, the Italian found himself in the middle of the canned goods aisle, staring down the length of the linoleum.

"Oh hey! I haven't seen you around recently, thought you might have been a one time off nightwalker!"

The bubble voice was startlingly close to Lovino's ear, and the shriek he let out made up in emphasis what it lacked in volume. Even the flinch was enough to move his body several full inches to the left.

"Oops! Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The stranger had made his way in front of Lovino now, and was standing with his weight settled on one leg, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. His jacket was exactly the same as Lovino remembered, a deep olive color that seemed to offset his skin tone nicely, and draw attention to all the right places despite it's baggy form.

The shorter man was having trouble getting words out, so he just shook his head, a fierce scowl settling on his face.

"It's fine." He finally growled, the rush of adrenaline now draining, and leaving him irritated. "I wasn't really scared anyway."

The other just laughed lightly, and stepped a few paces down the way to examine a shelf of goods.

Torn between storming off, and an unusual curiosity towards this... _person_ who didn't seem to have any sense of the sort of person he was interacting with, Lovino hesitated aimlessly for a moment before settling staunchly in front of the canned fruits. How ironic that he would be in the same position two trips in a row.

The falsely cheery atmosphere provided by the ABBA track playing energetically in the background gave Lovino an odd rush of confidence, enough to glance sideways at the other man every now and then.

"Do you think diced or halved would be better in a sauce?" The stranger had turned at some point, so that his chest was facing somewhere between the shelving and Lovino, and both his hands held different cans of tomatos.

His face was concentrated, glancing back and forth between the two, before he turned fully towards Lovino, the absolute picture of bafflement.

The Italian felt his stomach clench.

"...What kind of sauce?" Was the reluctant reply, not that the stranger seemed to notice.

"An Italian style pasta sauce. See, I usually cook Spanish, but recently I was challenged to venture outside my comfort range a little bit, and try some traditional Italian."

Lovino pursed his lips, years of cultural pride in his family's food rising to the surface like scum on a broth.

"And you're doing that with _canned_ tomatoes?" There was no mistaking the note of disgust in his voice, and the stranger's expression shifted to one of brief surprise before he broke into laughter.

"I guess that's true...it's not real Italian without fresh ingredients." There was that sheepish expression again. The knot, forgotten in Lovino's moment of scorn, was back in full force.

"I-if you _must_ use canned though, I would recommend halved. They make for a better texture." If Lovino had been looking for some sort of repayment for the advice, he couldn't help but think that the beaming smile he received was more than enough.

 _When was the last time someone had smiled at him like that?_

"Thank you so much!" The stranger was replacing one of the cans with two more of the other variety, holding them in the crook of one arm like a metallic infant.

There was an instant of silence between the two, Lovino turning his head back towards the canned goods in front of him, feigning concentration. And then there was a breeze drifting over his right ear, and the stranger's jacket was brushing his basket.

"Need help choosing?" The man's voice by his ear was somehow the perfect balance of smooth with just a touch of gravel, and Lovino could feel the blood rush to his face.

"N-no! I don't!"

The laugh was close, and from this distance Lovino could see the round, calloused pads of the stranger's fingers as he reached out towards the shelf. He tapped on a cylinder with a blue label, a giant yellow peach on the front.

"I would recommend this one, personally. It's very sweet!" The Italian's head turned towards the other, and was greeted with a wide smile and a wink.

"I'm Antonio, by the way! I just realized I hadn't introduced myself til now, sorry about that." That sheepish expression was paired with a soft laugh, and Lovino could feel that his face hadn't cooled down in the least.

"Lovino."

"Nice to meet you!" Antonio seemed to be thinking about something, but the way he was staring at Lovino's face was making it hard for the shorter man to focus.

"Hey listen, so you remember how I said before that I was going to be trying authentic Italian? Well to be honest, I'm not too sure what I'm doing, so if you wouldn't mind, I'd love if you could give me some pointers sometimes. Here…"

Lovino watched, stunned, as he bent down to carefully set all three cans on the yellowed tile, and fumble in his oversized jacket pockets.

Antonio handed over a small, wrinkled scrap of paper, a number scrawled hastily in running ink across the front.

"I'd love if you'd give me a call when you're free." With a wide smile, that crinkled the edges of his green eyes in the most charming way, the man was picking up his canned tomatoes, and walking backwards down the aisle. With an enthusiastic wave, he turned the corner and was gone.

Lovino on the other hand, found himself making his way to the check out in a daze, several moments later.

And when he noticed not one, but two cans of peaches being rung up at the register, he couldn't quite remember when they had ended up in his basket.

 _Hello there~ Part two is up! I'm not sure how this stands up compared to part one, but I hope you enjoy reading it nonetheless . Probably one more chapter to go! Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Part III

The space under the bed smelled of dust and unwashed socks. Lovino pulled his blanket cocoon closer around himself, and rolled further into the narrow crevice.

He had no explanation for how he ended up here, wrapped tightly in sweaty sheets squeezed between the bed springs and the carpet, but if he had to guess he would say it had something to do with the scrap of paper sitting innocuously on his bedside table.

That stupid scrawled phone number that seemed to be mocking him every time he turned over was driving him crazy, and completely throwing off his already messed up sleep schedule. He couldn't remember the last time he had managed to sleep all day.

"Stupid fucking Antonio in that stupid oversized jacket, giving me his _stupid_ phone number."

If Lovino looked up, he could see the pastel wash of sunlight that was splashing itself softly across the bedroom floor. Which was why his face was pressed firmly down, eyes squeezed shut, and voice muffled from within the folds of off-white fabric.

Honestly, even with as messed up as his lifestyle had been over the past few weeks, the Italian couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted. And yet there was something oddly exhilarating about it. Finally, there was something other than blankness filling his mind, and the sick _potential_ of it all was draining beyond belief.

He let out an exaggerated sigh of frustration and began to wiggle out from under the bed. It required more effort than he expected, and by the time he managed to get loose, he was beginning to overheat in all the cloth.

"Goddamn motherfucking _fuck!_ " His arms flailed wildly, the picture of him attempting to escape from his blanket cocoon resembling a fly caught in a spider's web. By the time he was out, the sheets were pooled at his feet, and he stood in the center of the room, breathing hard with a furious expression.

This was unacceptable. He had been alone for _so long_ now, and who was this random person at the supermarket to come into his life and mess that up. He had a thing going, a system. It wasn't perfect, to be sure. And was he happy? Of course not. But he was alive. He wasn't _really_ miserable, he was just...tired all the time.

The frustration was draining now, and he sank to the carpeted floor, still dusted with bits of plastic and socks he hadn't worn for months. The idea of forcing down another frozen pizza made him sick.

 _I want real food._

Somehow again lying on the floor, with his cheek pressed against the carpet, Lovino decided that the least the damn spaniard from the supermarket could do in exchange for all this angst he was causing was cook him some decent Italian.

…

The space was unexpectedly pleasant, but it was the first time Lovino had been somewhere other than his house, the grocery, or somewhere in between in weeks, and he could feel the panic levels rising.

Thank god Antonio also seemed to be a night owl, because he didn't think he could have handled this at all in the daytime. Maybe it was too long in the reverse schedule, but Lovino was still pretty sure the sun would actually burn.

"Wine?"

Oh, yes. This was exactly what Lovino needed. _Alcohol._ He nodded wordlessly, accepting the glass without pretense, and knocking back a large gulp.

Antonio giggled. _There goes another third of the glass._

"I honestly wasn't expecting you to call. After the first week or so, I figured you probably weren't interested in hanging out or anything." Antonio was doing that sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck again, and Lovino's stomach flipped. Had he made a mistake calling? Did the dumb spaniard not even want to be doing this right now? _Of course not, why would he, with the weird guy who never showers and always shows up past midnight at the grocery store, like some loser–_

"I'm really glad you did though!" Antonio beamed, his teeth nearly perfectly straight, the corners of his eyes crinkling like soft fabric. "I can't wait to get some cooking pointers! Oh, I hope you don't mind it's so late, by the way, I usually work nights so my schedule is kinda off."

The taller man was moving through the kitchen now, opening drawers to fish out utensils.

The walls were yellow, not that you could tell with all the knickknacks and paintings hung up around the place. A tiny half window sat staunchly above the sink, decorated with frilly, tomato patterned curtains.

The bar that separated the kitchen from the living room was where Lovino sat, balanced tensely on a black stool that made him feel like he was on stilts. He stifled the urge to swing his legs with another intake of wine.

"It's fine...I'm usually up anyway." Lovino was disconcerted by how odd his own voice sounded, and he frowned at Antonio's back. Stupid bastard, making him talk.

"Oh good! I guess it's lucky we both have such weird schedules, huh? Otherwise we probably wouldn't have ended up running into each other at all!"

It was odd how positive the taller man seemed. Now that Lovino was thinking about it, in every interaction the other had seemed...happy. It was kind of nice, so the Italian frowned harder. How dare he make him feel this way, stupid cheerful spanish bastard.

"I'd rather be asleep." How ironic that the first time Lovino was saying that outloud, it wasn't true.

The wine began to work its magic, and slowly but surely, Lovino began to loosen up. His shoulders lost their marble stiffness, and he would lean forward over the counter to direct Antonio in the kitchen.

After one particularly offensive mix up between thyme and sage, Lovino found himself scooting off the bar stool, and making his way to stand beside Antonio in the kitchen, to show him "how it's done." The savoury smells that filled the room reminded Lovino of his grandfather's old house, and a combination of wine and nostalgia was making his head spin rather pleasantly.

The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a bit of a daze. Something about the soft yellow lights made Antonio's eyes sparkle when Lovino caught him staring, and the shorter man was glad he could blame his constant blush on the alcohol.

The food was incredible. Lovino took the credit Antonio gave him, but between exquisite bites he had to concede that the Spaniard was an excellent cook.

"It reminds me of my family's cooking," the Italian admitted grudgingly.

Antonio's smile could have rivalled the sun.

After they had finished, and the dishes that had done together lay drying on the dish rack, Lovino was guided to the sofa. It was covered in a throw blanket, and had a noticeable dip in the center, but Lovino felt comforted by the way it enveloped his smaller frame. He tucked himself into the corner, watching sleepily as Antonio fetched something from the kitchen.

"What are you doing? We already cleaned everything up, you don't have to put the dishes away _right_ away." The grumpy edge in his voice was softened by a certain amount of sleepiness, brought on not only by the wine, but the unusual amount of activity he had participated in. It had been an awfully long time since Lovino _did_ this much.

"I know, I know," Antonio laughed, "I'm just getting dessert!" The Spaniard walked smoothly out of the kitchen, a small white bowl in each hand. Lovino could see the sliced edges of something soft and yellow peeking over the rounded rim.

"Peaches?"

"Yep!" Antonio set the bowls down on the coffee table with a grin. "I thought since you seemed to be looking at them a lot in the store, the canned ones I mean, I would get some fresh ones! Like you said, fresh is better than canned...and well it's not quite the season yet, so they might not be the best, but still."

Something about the way the taller man was getting a bit flustered as he spoke, and the way he was smiling down at the bowls of fruit as if they were a special present was making Lovino's stomach flip in ways it hadn't for a very long time. An odd sort of fluttery sensation was working its way up, from the tips of his toes to his chest to his throat, and the Italian half expected when he opened his mouth he would be spitting out butterflies.

"T-thanks." He finally managed to force the word out, not quite meeting the other's eyes. "I like peaches."

That was understatement. Lovino was pretty sure that if things kept up like this, peaches would soon become his absolute number one favorite fruit. And sitting on the sunken couch, watching Antonio delicately spear a golden slice, the Italian was surprisingly ok with that.

 _I think I finished this in record time! Part III is up, and that's as far as I had planned to write for this...I know I left it very open ended though, so if there's any desire for an epilogue, let me know ._

 _Speaking of letting me know, THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who reviewed! You are all so sweet, and they absolutely made my day!_

 _To Errui, thank you for your feedback about the character movements! I have to agree with you, sometimes I see it in my head, but I'm not at all confident that it gets across when I write it, so I will work on that! I really appreciate you, and everyone else, taking time out to write something on my little story!_

 _As always, thank you so much for reading!_


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